Dudes - We're No Angels (2025) [Hi-Res]

Review by Joe Viglione

A&R man Mark Spector produced We're No Angels, an album featuring pop's forgotten boy, Bob Segarini; ex-members of April Wine -- guitarist David Henman and his brother, drummer Ritchie Henman; and for some odd reason, the drummer from the last version of the Wackers as well. Three guitars, bass, and two drummers for a pop band? The thin sound of the disc doesn't help the diluted songs, which are certainly derivative, but not in the right way. Managed by Fred Heller, who did an absolutely terrible job with Mott the Hoople, it seems like he was feeding CBS his follow-up to Mott with this lackluster disc. Add the terrible artwork to this mix and the boys have an uphill battle to begin with. David Henman mentions rock & roll debutantes twice, once in "Dancin' Shoes" and once again in "Rock 'N' Roll Debutante," so listeners know what he has on his mind, but unless the young ladies wanted to date the entire cast of the film Revenge of the Nerds, there wouldn't be much hope. Having learned nothing from the terrible photo work on Bob Segarini's Roxy album, liner-note king Greg Shaw should have demanded a copy of the album artwork before scribbling his relentless hyperbole on the back. What We're No Angels is is a passable album of music that is neither bad nor extraordinary. The vocal work is equally passable, but won't give Paul McCartney or Emmit Rhodes any sleepless nights. Mark Spector's production is so pedestrian that if the band gets close, as they do in the melodic rip-off that is "Deeper and Deeper," he can't turn it up a notch for them. The song borders on copyright infringement, but unfortunately, Freda Payne's excellent song of the same name, "Deeper and Deeper," is not the victim. It's just another problem with the album: no one is reaching into their soul here to churn out a hit -- not the band, not the producer, not the label. Poor Greg Shaw seems to be howling at the moon in these liners. "Got Me Where You Want Me" is an interesting tune, and maybe the latter-day Mott could have taken the title track somewhere, because like "We're No Angels," the song has a little bit of something, maybe Kim Fowley's contribution as co-writer. Like the Roxy album, this is not the second coming. Listeners won't find a "Whiter Shade of Pale" here, nor will they find a sublime pop masterpiece like Pete Shelley's "Homosapien." There is no "Louie Louie" in these grooves, and if listeners want "Don't Worry Baby" they'll have to get a Beach Boys album. "Saturday Night" leads off side one, and it doesn't have the bounce or the hooks of the song by the same name which the Bay City Rollers hit with. Greg Shaw drove the point home about another group, the Flaming Groovies, and though this ensemble might aspire to such lofty heights, a song like "Fuel Injection" is and never can be "Shake Some Action." Maybe Dudes weren't angels, but they certainly weren't devils either, and what this album needed was a little angst, a little misconduct, a little bit of down-and-dirty rock & roll. This is rock music with clean hands and shackled sounds, guaranteed to keep listeners in their seats. What's the point?